


Skipping Stone

by junkverse



Series: The Comeback Kid [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (just a lil tho), (sorry), AND THEN A STEP TO THE RI-III-IIIGHT, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Fluff, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, drunk!Viktor, fun with sign language, it's like... a jump to the left, just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8779051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkverse/pseuds/junkverse
Summary: Viktor and Yuuri work on their communication skills.(Or: Yuuri teaches Viktor sign language, and Viktor tries to get Yuuri to relax.)Set in-between episodes 4 and 5. Direct follow-up to "Born to Lose."





	

Blades clicked, rasped against the ice, leaving powder in their wake.

“Watch your free leg.”

He did, Yuuri letting himself relax, minding his balance as he curved around the rink. No music right now, but he fell into the motions of the routine easily enough, his body flowing through the steps like water.

“Try the quad for me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri did so, building speed, muscles tensing. He kicked a toe into the ice, launching himself. One, two, three, four rotations -and he stumbled on the exit, palm slapping the ice. He rolled on a knee and brought himself back into form, recovering. Yuuri did a brief circuit around the rink, building momentum again, hips rotating as he went for another go-

“Enough.”

-and he stopped, feet briefly stumbling over each other as he turned towards Viktor. He cast the older man a bewildered look as he skated over to Viktor’s position at the rink edges.

“What is it?” Yuuri asked, panting a little.

“That’s enough for right now, I think,” Viktor said. He sounded oddly distant.

“Viktor, we just got started.”

“I know.” Viktor tapped a finger against his chin. “You’re… not quite ready for this. We might try again tomorrow.”

Yuuri frowned. “Viktor, I can do it, it’s not a big deal.” He dipped his head a little. “I mean. It might take awhile, but I can-”

“Not what I mean.”

Then it clicked.

It had been a couple days since Yuuri’s late night panic attack at the rink. He’d taken the day after off, at Viktor’s insistence (and he’d been grateful and a little guilty for it), but now they were back at training. Other than their brief conversation the morning after, Viktor had said nothing of the whole episode, as if it hadn’t happened.

Until now.

Yuuri clenched his jaw, hands gripping the rink barrier hard enough for his knuckles to pale. “This is about… about my freak out,” Yuuri said. “Isn’t it?”

“Not sure I would call it a ‘freak out’,” Viktor said. “But yes.”

“Viktor, I’m fine,” Yuuri said, exasperated. “It happens sometimes, but it doesn’t mean I can’t skate.”

“Yuuri, I just don’t want you to-”

“Look, I’m not _delicate_ , okay?” Yuuri snapped, slamming a hand down on the rink barrier. “I’ve been dealing with this long before you got here, and I’ll keep dealing with it long after-” _you’re gone,_ he thought but didn’t say, “-the season’s over. And it _sucks,_ but that’s kind of all I can do about it.”

He stopped to take a breath, and sighed. “Just… Go back to teasing me. Tell me I’m a pig or something. That’s easier.”

There was a heavy pause. Neither of them spoke, the only sound the distant noises of the rink machinery, and Yuuri’s breathing.

“I’m… not going to tease you, Yuuri. Not like that.”

Yuuri looked up at Viktor properly. He seemed… guilty? Sad? Yuuri couldn’t quite tell. It looked unnatural, whatever expression he had going on. Viktor smiled so much, fake or otherwise, that anything else seemed weird.

“But you’re right,” Viktor said. “You’re not delicate. Quite the opposite, actually. And somehow I’d forgotten.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze briefly darting to the side. “I’ve never… encountered what you deal with, not directly. And I’m not sure how to handle it.”

Yuuri blinked. Viktor was… apologetic. Awkward. Suddenly more real, in an odd way. He half-wondered if anyone else had ever seen Viktor like this.

“Then… I’ll teach you how to handle it,” Yuuri said finally. “But in the meantime, I wanna run through the program again.” 

Viktor seemed to pause, as if he wanted to say something, but instead nodded and smiled, the mask back on.

“All right,” Viktor said in his best coach voice, “from the top, then.”

 

 

Practice ended up running long into the evening hours -the sky was alight with oranges and reds and purples by the time they made it back to Yu-Topia. Yuuri’s feet and knees ached fiercely, but he almost didn’t notice, his mind on what Viktor had said to him after the episode at the rink.

_When you get the chance, I want you to teach me those-_

The signs. They’d been useful, back when he had skated with Phichit and Celestino; they’d learned enough that they could understand when he needed a moment to step away, to settle and soothe his head. It’d been easy enough, passing along what he knew to them.

Teaching Viktor to not just understand but _talk_ with sign language couldn’t be that much harder, surely.

Yuuri rolled the thought around in his head as he ate dinner, already picking out a few of the more essential phrases. He wasn’t sure how far he could get in the time they had, but he could try his best.

Eventually, Yuuri set his bowl and chopsticks aside, and got up from his spot at the table.

“Oh?” Viktor said. “Turning in already?”

“Not quite.” Yuuri stretched briefly. “I’ve got something I want to show you; I just need to grab it from my room.”

A coy, sly look made itself comfortable on Viktor’s features, and he leaned on a free hand. “Ohh? Want me to autograph some posters?”

Yuuri didn’t quite flinch - _he doesn’t know about those, you hid them, remember_ \- and shook his head, smiling a little. “No. You said you wanted to learn some sign language, right?”

“Right.” The coy look had slid into something like interest.

“You up for a lesson?”

Viktor’s face lit up. “Yes, definitely!”

Yuuri’s smile got a bit bigger; Viktor’s enthusiasm was contagious. “Good. Hang tight a bit, I’ll be right back.”

Viktor nodded, returning to the last of his supper as Yuuri padded back to his room. He opened up the door and leaned over his desk, opening and booting up his laptop.

After a few minutes, he found what he needed. It’d been ages, but there were a few sign charts and notes still tucked away on a folder on his desktop, and Yuuri brought up a handful of bookmarked tutorial videos he’d saved years ago. He’d have to find more sooner rather than later, but it was a start. Satisfied, he nodded to himself before tucking the laptop under an arm and heading back towards the dining room.

The last of the guests had either cleared out or headed to the baths; Viktor was the only one in the room. He was playing absently with the last grains of rice in his bowl, his attention on the TV -some sort of drama one of the guests had left on, English captions scrolling along the bottom of the screen.

“Viktor.”

He perked up, setting his chopsticks aside and turning to face Yuuri. “Ahh, there you are.” He rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Ready to teach me some Japanese signs?”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t know any JSL, actually.”

Viktor seemed almost dismayed. “Eh? Then what-?”

“I use American sign,” Yuuri said. He sat down next to Viktor, setting his laptop on the table. 

“Really?” Viktor said, sounding intrigued. “Where did you pick that up?”

“Detroit,” Yuuri said, as he pulled up a sign chart. “Phichit had a classmate who was hard of hearing, and after I, ah… had an episode, he thought it’d be good for me to learn.” He shrugged. “I’m a bit rusty, and I’ve forgotten some of the signs, but it’s useful for when…”

“When you can’t words,” Viktor supplied.

“Yes.”

There was a brief, thoughtful silence between them.

“...What’s it like?” Viktor asked.

“What’s what like?”

“The… episode. Panic attack. Whatever that was.”

Yuuri froze. He couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him that. Had anyone?

“It’s like…” Yuuri said slowly, “everything starts happening, all at once. All your thoughts start piling on each other, and they’re all loud, and then everything else gets loud - hearing, touch, sight. And it hurts.” He swallowed. “All you can do is… wait it out.”

“That… that sounds terrifying.”

“It is.”

“Honestly, when I first saw you fall I thought you’d broken something, but…”

Yuuri frowned. “I… Did I really look that bad?”

“You,” Viktor said, carefully, “did not look like you were having fun, let’s say."

“Oh.” Yuuri felt himself shrink under the weight of the memory.

“You’ve bounced back nicely, though,” Viktor said, maybe a little too cheerfully. “Must be that endurance of yours, eh?” He clapped Yuuri on the back.

Yuuri smiled, just a little. “Guess so.” He became aware of the lingering presence of Viktor’s hand on his shoulder, and cleared his throat. “We should get started, yeah?”

Viktor removed his hand (but not before gently trailing it down Yuuri’s arm), and nodded.

“All right, so,” Yuuri said, turning the screen towards Viktor, “ASL is pretty straightforward, but there’s a few things to keep in mind…”

 

 

They started with the alphabet, Yuuri walking Viktor through each sign until Viktor could fingerspell easily. Then onto basic words: _please, thank you, sorry, help, home, quiet,_ until they could carry on brief, clipped conversations. Vocabulary expanded as Yuuri’s skating improved, bit by bit, Viktor’s signing soon flowing with some of the same ease Yuuri’s body did through every jump and spin, every step of footwork. They were improving, the both of them, and Yuuri couldn’t quite suppress the pride he felt.

Around them, the summer turned bright and humid, the air heavy and smelling of the sea. The training intensified as it grew hotter; more than once Yuuri passed out in his room as soon as he’d finished dinner, body all but screaming with exhaustion. But even with that, he could feel himself getting stronger, his steps getting more certain. When he thought of the coming season, there was less dread than there had been before, the edges tinged with something like hopefulness.

But still. He was nervous, as always.

And of course Viktor noticed.

“We’re taking the rest of today off.”

Yuuri stumbled, tripping out of the entrance to a spin.

“What?”

“We’re taking today off,” Viktor repeated, smiling. “There’s a festival tonight, and I wanna go.”

Yuuri skated over to him, reaching over the barrier to grab his water bottle. “That’s not ‘til, like, six,” he said. “We can still train.”

“Please, you know you’re gonna be too tired to do anything if we wrap up at our usual time.”

Yuuri shrugged, taking a swig.

“Don’t you wanna go?”

“I do! But…” Yuuri glanced back at the ice. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Viktor hummed, tapping a finger to his chin. “I’d think that’d be all the more reason to go. Make the most of what we have, yes?”

Yuuri made a noncommittal noise, staring at the water bottle and fiddling with the cap.

“Yuuri.”

He looked up.

 _You need some fun,_ Viktor signed, his gestures careful and clear. _And I want to pay you back for teaching me._

Yuuri stared for a moment, considering, still fiddling with the water bottle. Then he sighed, and signed back, _Okay. Let me get ready._

 

 

It was already dark by the time the Viktor and Yuuri found themselves at the festival. Yuuri couldn’t remember what exactly it was for -some sort of local artist’s coalition or something?- but it was big, and bright, and loud. There were food stalls everywhere, carnival games, potters and painters and craftsmen selling their wares, and some musicians were playing on a stage at the far end of the thoroughfare the festival had been set up on. Paper lanterns and fairy lights had been strung up between the stalls, and everything seemed to be suffused with a sodium yellow glow.

Soon, they were both more than a little tipsy, full of fried food and cheap beer and sake. Yuuri had objected to both the booze and the food, initially, worried about having to run it off the next morning, but Viktor waved him off.

“It’s fun time,” Viktor admonished. “We don’t worry about training during fun time. Coach’s rules.”

So Yuuri tried not to worry. Or tried not to worry about the food and booze, at least. Not a lot he could do about the rest of his worrying, out of force of habit if nothing else. So he drank until both he and Viktor started to get a little… floppy, for lack of a better word.

“Think I’ve had too much,” Yuuri said. His legs wobbled a little, and his face felt a little too warm.

“No, no,” Viktor said, his grin loose and free. _You have had just enough,_ he signed. He paused, and then, _Or maybe not enough. You are still thinking too much._

Yuuri squinted. _Your signing is better._

 _Is it?_ Viktor seemed deeply amused by the notion, eyes almost twinkling.

 _How are you better at this when you’re drunk?_ Yuuri wondered, trying not to laugh. _Not fair._

Viktor giggled. _Russian,_ he said by way of explanation, carefully fingerspelling. 

“Of course,” Yuuri mumbled. He shook his head, briefly turning his attention away. The lights of the festival seemed brighter, more colorful with the alcohol flowing through him. The night was velvet-dark and almost starless around them, the heat of the day slowly, finally bleeding away. The crowd was loud around them, but for once Yuuri didn’t mind the noise.

It was nice, Yuuri decided. Really nice.

They walked the thoroughfare for awhile, chatting about everything and nothing and stopping every so often to ooh and ahh at trinkets or buy food that neither of them should’ve been eating. They drank more, too, until Yuuri’s arms and legs felt loose and liquid, and the whole of him tingled with a pleasant, quiet warmth.

But even so, Yuuri felt an odd prickle at the edge of his thoughts, a whispering gnawing just at the periphery of things.

 _This is going to end,_ the whispering eventually said to him. _Very soon._

Yuuri swallowed. Yes, it would end. Not just the night, but… everything. The training. The season. Viktor. It would all go away soon. Yuuri had managed to not think about it too much in the past couple months, throwing himself into skating and teaching Viktor, but now, with everything made loose and immediate by the alcohol…

His eyes stung a little. Yuuri reflexively wiped at them, bumping his glasses, and hated the tears he found there. He just had to go and spoil things for himself, didn’t he?

“Hey,” Viktor said.

Yuuri blinked. Viktor had a hand on his shoulder, and was gazing at him with a look so intensely fond it almost hurt.

 _You good?_ Viktor signed.

 _Yeah. I’m good,_ Yuuri signed back. _But maybe we should get home?_

Viktor seemed to mull it over before nodding. _Sure. Walk?_

Yuuri snorted, “Hell no, you can barely stand.”

 _I’m fine,_ Viktor signed, just before his legs wobbled and gave and he found himself all but lying on Yuuri. Yuuri staggered under the weight; he found himself laughing, maybe a little too loudly.

“Okay,” Viktor said, with grave certainty. “Maybe… maybe we should get a ride.”

 

 

The inn was thankfully quiet by the time Yuuri and Viktor got back; they managed to stumble through the door, badly suppressing their laughter, without causing too much of a ruckus. Makkachin greeted them as they came in, bounding around their legs, and they both shooshed him as they made their way towards their rooms. Viktor leaned on Yuuri, one arm draped across his shoulders, not quite swaying as he sang something in Russian in an off-key slur.

“Beautiful,” Yuuri remarked as he opened the door to Viktor’s bedroom. “You should be in opera.”

Viktor nodded and mumbled something in agreement before briefly tearing himself away from Yuuri to pat Makkachin on the head.

“Shooosh,” Viktor said softly. “It’s sleepy time, Makkachin. Lie down.”

Makkachin (finally) obeyed, trotting back into the room and making himself comfortable on a small cushion by the bed. Yuuri slowly followed, clumsily slapping the light on as he went. Through the haze of alcohol he was aware of how tired he was, how loose and light and distant everything felt. He carefully began to set Viktor down on the edge of his bed, but all of a sudden found himself on it, instead.

Or rather, he found himself on Viktor. The realization made Yuuri abruptly sober up a little.

“Oh,” he said faintly.

“Oh,” Viktor echoed. He yawned, draping an arm around Yuuri’s back and drawing him close.

“I… I should go.” Yuuri began to wriggle against Viktor, and the blankets, but couldn’t quite get his arms and legs to cooperate. Something like panic bubbled in him, the warmth and the weight of Viktor all of a sudden too much.

“Stay.”

“This isn’t-”

“Yuuri-”

“-this isn’t right, I shouldn’t-”

“-it’s okay.”

Yuuri froze, daring to look up at Viktor.

He was beautiful. He was always beautiful, but. There was something about him now -cheeks warm and flushed from the alcohol, hair fanned out against the bed, eyes shining in the faint light- that seemed especially… open. Unguarded.

Viktor’s hand came up to caress the skin at the nape of Yuuri’s neck. “Stay,” he said again, voice soft. His other hand slowly, carefully repeated himself in sign. _Stay._

Yuuri swallowed. And then he said, “Okay.”

Viktor smiled and pulled Yuuri closer so that their legs tangled together, and Yuuri was resting his head against Viktor’s chest. Viktor’s hand tangled through Yuuri’s hair, nails gently scratching against his scalp, and Yuuri all but _melted_ , a soft, contented sigh escaping him. Slowly, slowly, Yuuri began to relax, nuzzling against Viktor’s neck, breathing him in. 

The silence that followed was restful, comforting. The inn was quiet around them, crickets chirping somewhere outside, the sounds of the ocean farther away still. Yuuri listened as Viktor’s breathing began to slow and even out as he drifted off, and felt a strange sort of peace wash over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something so… intimate with anyone.

Yuuri yawned, burying his head in the crook between Viktor’s neck and shoulders, and shut his eyes, letting himself drift.

_This is going to end._

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open, and he curled closer to Viktor, trying to block the thought out.

_This is going to end. He’s going to leave, one way or another._

“I know,” Yuuri whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “I know.”

Tears began to gather at the corners of his eyes. His breath hitched as he tried to suppress a whimper.

“Please,” Yuuri said, his voice so soft he was almost silent, “please don’t go.”

The quiet came back to him -the crickets, the distant ocean, Viktor breathing against him. Yuuri sighed wetly, and moved to wipe the tears away when he felt Viktor’s arms wrap around him a little tighter, felt Viktor ghost a kiss against his forehead.

And Viktor whispered, “I won’t. I promise.”

Many things would happen between that night and Yuuri’s final bow at the Grand Prix. A lot of hurdles, a lot of sweat and tears and uncertainty. But for now, there was only the two of them, holding each other on a warm summer night, slipping off into the peace of sleep, together.

And it was all they needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, finally wrote the follow-up to "Born to Lose." I swear, I meant to get this done sooner, but school happened, and some of the stuff that happened in later episodes (specifically 7) made me go back and revise some of the character writing.
> 
> Title here is from the AJJ song of the same name, from the album "Rompilation."
> 
> As with "Born to Lose," Yuuri's experiences here with anxiety (and his description of his panic attack/sensory overload episode) is pulled from personal experience. I'm not as familiar with ASL as I would like to be, so I purposefully avoided descriptions of specific signs here. If anything else seems inaccurate, please let me know.
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated.
> 
> eta: y'know, of all the things to get jossed in this fic, I didn't think "how Yuuri acts when drunk" would be one of them. wild.


End file.
